Gas - The Early Trials

'Did you keep Aggie on as your fucktoy after that?' Sarah asked.

'No,' Dr Tilley replied. 'I got her to work the following morning. She wrote that letter of recommendation, made the phone calls, gently kissed me goodbye in her office last thing before I left that practice as a junior partner for the last time. I left her a small bottle of Batch 17, told her to use it to snare some other dentist, gave her a couple of vials of the catalyst and told her to look for men who smoke, because it turned out that long term exposure to nicotine, whether you're a light or a heavy smoker, is the key to making the suggestions permanent.'

'But you still got a guilty conscience from abusing Annie that one time,' Sarah C. said. 'Why did you carry on with all the others after that, then? You should've stopped, published, got your results in the papers, and won the Nobel Prize or something.'

'I'm not a scientist,' Dr Tilley said. 'I'm just a frightened little boy who got bullied, and who swore blind he'd find a way of making the bullies eat their own words. I'd be in control of them.'

Sarah C. looked shocked. 'Really?' she asked.

Dr Tilley chuckled. 'Nope, but if you're after a story that sounds plausible, that's as good as any. I was just a perverted young lad who saw his sister being put under once in the dentist's office. I fantasised about having the nurse being put under, and having my wicked way. It just turned me on.

'A lot.'

Beverley, Helga, Sadie, Justine

'I've been looking at halothane,' Helga said, lighting up a cigarette in the staff waiting room.

'Okay,' Justine said, sitting back in the comfy chair and crossing her legs. Helga sat back, blowing a smoke ring at the ceiling. Justine was a shorter, more stocky Afro-British woman with hair styled in cornrow braids and sparkling dark eyes, vaguely reminiscent of that woman presenter on Channel Four.

'Which one do you recommend, Sadie?' asked Helga. Across from her, seated on Justine's right, sat Sadie, a sultry, olive – skinned brunette with shoulder length black hair and a graceful oval face.

'I hear xenon's interesting,' Sadie said. 'I always wanted to try it out.'

'Expensive stuff,' Justine said.

'I think I can get some,' Beverley said. She was sitting the furthest from the group. Beverley was fair skinned, red haired and almost as tall as Helga.

'What?'

'I know where I can get some,' Beverley said. 'Dr Tilley says he's been trying to get some xenon in, test it out on some of the patients.'

'Can he do that?' asked Sadie, mildly surprised.

'He says he can,' Beverley said. 'Did you know he was a fully qualified anaesthesiologist as well as a qualified dental surgeon?'

'I had no idea of that,' Justine said. 'So what's he doing here? He could be working one of the big hospitals. Move up to Liverpool: the Walton's always short of anaesthesiologists. Same with Alder Hey.'

'He said something about not wanting to work with children,' Beverley said. 'Said he preferred to work on developed adults.'

Helga blew out smoke, stubbed out her cigarette. 'I'm not complaining,' she said. She glanced at the tea making gear in the sink unit in the corner. 'Anyone for a cuppa?'

'When was this?' Sarah C. asked.

'It was after Judith and Hannah,' Dr Tilley said. 'About eight months after the college orgy.'

'About that,' Sarah C. said. 'You know why I got involved with you.'

'You were an undercover reporter,' Dr Tilley said, 'working with David something, I believe. You were going to expose me, if I recall.'

'Only you, Justine, Helga, Sadie and Beverley got me and David first, turned me into ...' She grimaced. 'I don't know what you turned me into! I never desired women before. I was straight! Now you've got me snogging the girls like some ... some dyke, and you even made me like it!'

'That's nothing, compared to what happened when the girls got a taste of Batch 19 that time.' He smiled. 'You see, as you found out, Batch 19 and later, Batch 23, worked really well when introduced with another well known anaesthetic. Somehow, both gases produce a remarkable effect; they enhance one particular aspect of this other gas.'

Sarah's grimace returned. 'Nitrous oxide.'

'Yes,' Dr Tilley said. 'Laughing gas.'

Beverley, Helga, Sadie, Justine

As the nurses sat in the staff room, Dr Tilley was already busy outside. The corridor was dark, the waiting room well lit, so they could not see Dr Tilley through the frosted glass pane of the closed waiting room door.

They couldn't see that he was naked, and carrying a couple of bottles of gas with him, along with a medical bag.

Dr Tilley lay bottles and bag down in the corridor, as he'd practised. The gas feed from both bottles were connected to a mixer wheel, which controlled the flow of the mixed gas: each bottle had its own flow, preset to the strength Dr Tilley had established as the most efficient ratio of Batch 19 : N₂O to induce rapid onset of euphoria and hilarity, followed by equally rapid anaesthesia after a short, but deliciously happy, interval.

The feed hose from the mixer tap ended in a medical anaesthetic mask. Dr Tilley placed the mask over a large keyhole in the doorway before taking out a gas mask. Among other little touches he'd prepared, Dr Tilley had spent good money making the room as airtight as possible, and fitted a special trick lock to the door, which would lock at the touch of a remote control, overriding any key placed in the lock. The old fashioned keyhole was a fake, installed simply so that Dr Tilley could have a vent to feed the hose into.

He'd practised doing this so many times; now, with his new Batch 19, he was ready to begin testing. And his test subjects were these four women.

'Why were you naked?' Sarah C. asked.

Dr Tilley blushed. 'I just had a hardon from the idea of Beverley laughing her face off, high on N₂O,' he said.

'Oh.'

Dr Tilley

The gas cylinders were ready; the feed was in place; the door was locked. Dr Tilley paused, ready to turn on the gas and show the nurses what anaesthesia truly felt like.

Helga got up, crossed the room to go for the tea things. She stood leaning against the sink unit, waiting for the kettle to boil, facing the door. Dr Tilley froze, praying the shadows in the corridor would conceal him.

After a moment, he heard the sound of the kettle boiling. Helga turned, began to get the tea ready, her back turned away from the door.

Dr Tilley breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn't move until Helga'd returned to her seat. If any of them got up and wanted to come to the door ... if any of them needed the toilet, came to the door and tried it ... even if they managed to open the door, how could he explain what he was doing naked in the corridor, with two bottles of gas and a feed into the room?

Dr Tilley's heart was pounding, as much from excitement and the thrill of being caught as from the fear of prosecution. Finally, Helga took her seat, and the nurses resumed their chat.

Presently, Dr Tilley watched Beverley lean down, take something out of her bag. A cigarette and a lighter. Through the ribbed glass of the door pane, he could see her light up, lean back in the chair and smoke the cigarette.

After a while, Beverley put out the cigarette; the moment, Dr Tilley realised, was upon him. Slowly, gently, he turned on the little silver mixer tap that connected both cylinders. A mixture of nitrous oxide and Batch 19 streamed through the feed, through the fake keyhole and into the room.

Hissssss ...

Dr Tilley crouched low over the bottles, checking the mix was correct. The gas, filling the room slowly, had yet to reach the nurses. It would, in time.

Hissssss ...

He stood up, now, still concealed in the shadows of the corridor, and waited. Any minute now, the gas entering the room would be filling their lungs, growing stronger with each passing second, with every breath they took.

Hissssss ...

Beverley, Helga, Sadie, Justine

Justine was closest to the door, so she began to feel the effects first.

'Is it me,' she said, 'or does this room get really stuffy when someone's been smoking in here?' She smiled, despite herself. For some reason, all she wanted to do was laugh. She had no idea why. Justine didn't like smoking.

'You know I hate the smell of smoke,' she said, grinning. 'I wish you guys wouldn't,' she said to Helga and Beverley. 'It's a filthy habit -' she said, the words ending in a chuckle.

'We've got a right,' Beverley said.

'We won't after July,' Sadie replied. 'They're changing the law. You can't smoke indoors.' She too began grinning.

So did Beverley. And Helga, last of all.

'What are you laughing at?' Helga asked Justine.

'I dunno -' Justine said, chuckling again. 'It's just something -' the chuckle returned, this time developing into a giggle. 'something -'

'Whatever it is,' Beverley said, 'Sadie thinks it's funny as hell!' Sadie was indeed already giggling. Justine was creasing up with laughter as Beverley began to chuckle herself.

'Hey look!' Helga cried, giggling as she pointed to the door. 'Is that -'

Beverley turned round, looked at the shape in the corridor. She saw what looked like Mr Tilley, standing in the doorway, naked, visible through the glass. She and Helga gave out a loud whoop of laughter before dissolving into hysterics.

Beside them Justine and Sadie were already there, the nitrous hitting them with much greater efficiency on the back of the Batch 19 gas.

All four nurses giggled and whooped as the door opened, and Dr Tilley walked into the room carrying the bottle of Batch 19, the open feed hose in his hand, pointing it at each in turn until, gradually, their laughter subsided and all four began to lapse into the half consciousness of the hypnotic gas.

'Nitrous oxide,' he said, through the mask. 'Nitrous, combined with nicotine and Batch 19. Seems to work okay. Nice.'

Shutting off the gas flow, he bent low over each nurse, whispering the Asimov into each one in turn.

'And that's how you got them all together,' Sarah C. said. 'And that's why they were all working with you when David and I came calling.'

'Yes,' Dr Tilley said.

'Sir, approaching the destination,' Helga suddenly said over the intercom. No indication that she felt anything at all about having been subjected to the gas.

'Thank you, Helga,' Dr Tilley replied. 'Now, about you and David.'

'You'd ensnared Judith and Hannah,' Sarah C. said. 'You tried out your gas in that dance, turned it into an orgy. But that wasn't enough, was it?'

'Not nearly,' Dr Tilley replied. 'I needed to improve on my formula.'

'How?'

'There was a limit to Batch 17 and Batch 19,' Dr Tilley said. 'They could only stimulate a libido that was already inclined to the sort of behaviour I sought.'

'Which is?'

'Loyalty,' Dr Tilley said. 'The semblance of willing obedience. To make a person feel like they're doing something because it's their choice.'

'Fooling them into doing something they wouldn't do if they weren't under the influence, in other words,' Sarah C. replied. 'Mind control.'

'Sort of,' Dr Tilley said. 'But I prefer the term corruption.'

Batch 23

'The other, older versions of this drug can only stimulate behaviour in someone who's already unconsciously inclined to that sort of behaviour,' Dr Tilley said.

'I understand, Doctor,' Sadie said, her eyes wide and calm as she drank in Dr Tilley's every word.

'Keep rowing, Sadie,' Dr Tilley said. 'It's a lovely day, and you really want to show off your body to the best ability.'

'Of course,' Sadie said, continuing to row the little row boat along the boating lake. Like the others in the boats following, Sadie was wearing only a skimpy little bikini.

It was a lovely, warn summer, and the sub was shining down upon the little party as they rowed along to Lovers' Island in the middle of the boating lake, as oblivious boaters paddled or rowed nearby.

'Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes. It's why I could make a person who'd smoked before pick up the cigarettes once more. Until Batch 23, I couldn't make a person smoke if they'd never smoked before.'

'And sex? What about that?'

'I couldn't make a person want to have sex if they had a low sex drive either,' Dr Tilley said. 'But I could appeal to their sloth, make them sleep, make them do other things they wanted to do if they'd been tempted by the activities before. Like theft, or exhibitionism, or overindulgence in food or drink. Natural inclinations, but only if they'd already given in tot he temptations beforehand. I couldn't make a woman cheat on her husband, unless she already was a love cheat.

'But then along came the formula for Batch 23, and everything changed. Now I could induce new behaviour patterns in people. I could induce someone who'd never smoked to start smoking; I could make a woman take off all of her clothes if she'd never stripped before, or even felt like stripping.

'Batch 23 would solve all my problems. Trouble was, it nearly broke me.'

'Why?' Sadie asked.

The boat ground gently against the shore. Beside him, Beverley, Justine and Helga clambered off their boat, tying theirs up on a post nearby.

'Tether the boat, Sadie,' Dr Tilley said. 'The water's only waist deep, but I have no desire to have to wade in it to retrieve my boat.'

'How much further, Helga?' Sarah C. asked.

'Not long,' Helga replied, over the intercom. 'Another twenty minutes, tops. We're stuck in traffic, which is why the delay.'

'Okay, thanks,' Sarah said, sitting back.

'So you tried out Batch 23 on me, David, those others,' Sarah said.

'I did,' Dr Tllley replied.

'Piper Connors, those two lads ... oh, and Marsha Winstone.'

'Oh, yes,' Dr Tilley replied. 'Dear Marsha. Marital bliss suits her, doesn't it?'

'Now, it does,' Sarah C. said. 'When did you snare her? It couldn't have been at the time you got me and David, and that woman.'

'Rosamund Callas. The twins' mum,' Dr Tilley nodded. 'You invited her in, didn't you? You and David. You'd tracked me down somehow, and you invited Mrs Callas to join you two in confronting me in my office, exposing the sordid little perv for the tabloids. Only,' he said, leaning forwards, 'it didn't quite work out the way you'd planned, did it?'

Marsha Winstone

There were a handful of people in the reception area, and a few others in other parts of the practice. Piper Connors, a chav girl; two brothers, the Keeleys; an Oriental lass, Kelly Tan, recovering in the rest room adjacent to reception.

There were Mr Tilley's assistants – Justine, Helga: no sign of the other two today: and Miss Mostyn in one of the staff rooms. That other greasy old man had up and gone for the afternoon, obviously lured by golf and whisky, and so that just left all of these people, plus a rather angry Rosamund Callas, plus Sarah C. at the reception desk, plus of course David R. in surgery.

And, of course, Marsha Winstone.

Marsha was an Afro-British black woman, her skin only slightly dark because of her mixed heritage. Her eyes were gorgeous dark brown, and she had many of her mother's beautiful features, including her mother's strong jaw and tall build.

Marsha's hair was styled in cornrow braids today. Mr Tilley seemed to like it when she wore cornrows, although she preferred to wear her hair loose. Today, though, was special, hence the expense.

Marsha had just come in from her job. She still wore the expensive grey power suit and trousers she usually wore to work. Marsha liked to dress to kill, or so the jokes went at work.

Marsha risked a glance up at the air conditioning vent in the ceiling. Above them, somewhere in the air conditioning room, Sadie and Beverley had hooked up two big gas bottles to the air vents and were set to fill every room in the surgery with gas. They'd start laughing, then pass out, and when they awoke, everyone would feel that much better, knowing that they had a purpose.

Marsha knew exactly what was about to happen. She caught herself glancing up at the air vents, chided herself. She wasn't supposed to give the game away to the others that today wasn't going to be like any other day in their calendar.

Unlike many other subjects of Dr Tilley's experiments, Marsha Winstone was the only volunteer.

Marsha, Before

'Are you sure?' Dr Tilley asked.

'Positively,' Marsha Winstone replied, from her location on the dentist's couch.

They were in Mr Tilley's surgery. Marsha Winstone and she were alone. It was evening, and the practice was shut, apart from the two of them.

'Give it to me,' she said to Dr Tilley. 'I want to know what it's like.'

'It's your formula, baby,' Dr Tilley said. 'What if there are side effects?'

'All part of the risks of research, honey,' Marsha replied, smiling. 'Hit me.'

'Well, if you insist, my love,' Dr Tilley said, lowering the full medical mask over Marsha's face and turning on the gas behind him.

Hissssss ...

Marsha Winstone, during the Gassing of Reception

Marsha felt the onset of the gas, a lightening of her spirit, a giggle bubbling its way up her throat. She felt a little light headed, although that was probably the anticipation.

"Does anyone know where the bogs are?" Robert said, standing up suddenly. Everyone stared at him, including his brother.

"Never mind," he said, making his way across the room to Marsha's left.

"No, wait," the receptionist said, getting up. "That's not the toilets, that's the Recovery Room -" She was too late. He was through the door. Marsha watched as he stopped dead just inside the door. The receptionist caught up with him.

A giggle came from Marsha's right. The chav girl in the townie getup sitting beside her. The lad she was looking at, sitting across from the chav girl, was grinning like an idiot: he too burst out laughing.

'What are you laughing at?' the girl asked, trying to make it sound stern and indignant and angry and failing.

'You,' the boy said, chuckling.

'Oh, sorry, my mistake -' That was the other brother, in the recovery room. There was a double take. Sarah interrupted him, and he turned back to face her.

"Hi," he said to her.

"Look, sorry, this is the Recovery Room," said the girl, smiling. "The toilets are the other way, over there." She pointed back across the room. "Just leave the patient there to recover in peace, all right?"

The lad chuckled some more. "Recover from what? Schizophrenia?"

The receptionist frowned. "What do you mean?"

"In there," the lad replied. "A girl with a g ... wearing a g ..."

Marsha began to chuckle. She felt light headed. She glanced at the others: the chav and the other lad were laughing out loud already. God, this made her feel horny as hell. She watched as the other brother staggered across the room, now laughing himself, as the receptionist began to succumb to the gas, lurching back to her seat.

The receptionist slipped, fell behind the counter. 'Whoops!' she cried, giggling. The reception office howled with laughter. Marsha slid off her chair to end up on her backside on the carpet, her power dressed legs akimbo, clutching her stomach and whooping with laughter.

Most undignified, she thought to herself as she and the others in reception finally began to nod and yawn and grow sleepy from the steadily rising concentration of the gas.

'She volunteered for that?' Sarah C. asked Dr Tilley.

'It was her desire to perfect Batch 19,' Dr Tilley said. 'If not for her, I'd never have come up with Batch 23. Marsha's selfless act made it all possible.'

'And the reception thing? What about that?'

'Again, she volunteered,' Dr Tilley replied. 'I left her all of her free will, gave her no suggestions at all. Not even the Asimov. Well, I gave her one suggestion. Just a little one.'